As she packed premium fiberfill into a dog’s head, a loud thump followed by an unholy howl came from outside. Every muscle stiffened. She muted the television, scrambled out of bed, and looked out the window, listening. It definitely sounded as if someone was walking on the porch below.
The whole reason Nick had asked his brother to install the high-security deadbolt was because of a recent rash of home invasions in their rural area. With her house situated in the middle of two acres, her closest neighbors were well beyond shouting distance.
She grabbed the phone off the nightstand and punched in 911. The moment the call connected, she whispered she might have an intruder. The emergency operator promised to send the nearest patrol car and asked her to stay on the line.
At the unmistakable sound of the front door closing, Sam dropped the receiver and yanked Nick’s old baseball bat from the walk-in closet. No way would she sit holding a phone while some wacko attacked her daughter.
Shaking, Sam tiptoed down the dark hallway to guard Dani’s door. If only she’d let Nick get their daughter that dog they’d wanted. Maybe something like a vicious pit bull with razor-edged teeth.
When the fourth step from the top creaked its usual warning, her heart pummeled her breastbone like a claustrophobic child locked in a closet.
She peered around the corner. A dark figure crept toward her. Raising the bat in a homerun stance, she threatened in her meanest make-my-day voice, “The cops are on the way, sleazebag. One step closer and I’ll whack your skull into next week!”
~*~
Nick Riverá glanced at the cheap plastic wall clock in his tiny efficiency kitchen. Nine-fifteen. After midnight in Pennsylvania. Where the hell could they be at this hour? Especially in a town where they rolled up the sidewalks at eight o’clock. And Dani had school tomorrow.
Visions of twisted wrecks and ambulances invaded his imagination and sent his heart into overdrive. Adrenaline coursed through his veins at warp speed.
No. He refused to go there.
He slapped his laptop closed as if it would cut the power to his rampant anxiety. Bad news traveled fast, and if something horrible had happened, he would know about it sooner rather than later. The most likely scenario was the two of them were tired when they came home, and they headed directly upstairs without noticing the message light blinking.
Either that or Sam was miffed about the check for Dani’s school clothes and had decided to join their daughter in dodging his calls.
“Yup. That’s got to be it,” he muttered to the universe, chuckling at how well he knew her. “And she probably called me an idiot.”
But whether it ticked her off or not, he would continue paying his family’s expenses.
Respectable men didn’t walk out on their wives and children and let them fend for themselves. That was the domain of dirt bags like the one who’d contributed to Nick’s DNA.
His stepfather, who’d adopted him as a toddler, had insisted the rodent who begat Nick must have been a gringo posing as Latino, because no self-respecting man with Hispanic blood could abandon a woman who’d borne his child.
Nick glanced around his closet-sized apartment. The tired, two-room dump wasn’t much, but at least he could afford to keep his family in their home, and his landlord didn’t prohibit kids or pets.
His four-legged roommate had waited long enough. Nick hoisted himself off the sofa and whistled toward the bedroom. “Do you want to take a run before we call it a night?”
The chocolate Labradoodle he’d rescued from the shelter three months ago loped out of the bedroom, his tongue lolling. Nick’s designer mongrel was a less attractive whelp than the deliberate mix between a Labrador retriever and a standard poodle typically produced, which was probably why such a young animal had been abandoned.
The dog’s long, elegant poodle legs looked absurd on the husky torso of his Lab ancestors, and his brown coat couldn’t decide if it wanted to be curly or straight. The mutt’s fur stuck out at odd angles, making the lanky animal look a bit like a wookie crawling on all fours. As a Star Wars enthusiast, Nick christened his homely pet Chewbacca.
He knelt on the floor and scratched Chewie behind the ears while the dog bathed his face. The vet had promised Labradoodles were some of the most affectionate, playful, and smartest pooches around. He hadn’t exaggerated.
After clipping the leash on the dog’s collar, Nick’s attention remained focused on the animal as he pulled open the door. He nearly slammed into the busty, nineteen-year-old waitress who served him breakfast at the local café most mornings.
Bethany had confided that she’d run away from an abusive home at sixteen and had been struggling daily to make ends meet. Nick felt bad for the red-haired girl’s financial situation, so he’d hired her to walk Chewie while he was at work.
“Bethany? What’re you doing here at this hour? Did I forget to pay you this week?”
She turned to face him, revealing her swollen jaw. His breath hitched. Apparently Chewie’s nightly run would have to wait a while longer.
“I was trying to work up the nerve to knock,” she explained, hugging herself as if she were freezing. In the past, he’d seen bruises on her and suspected the cradle-snatching maggot she lived with was manhandling her, but she’d always made an excuse, denying it.
“Do you want to tell me the truth this time? Because I don’t believe you walked into a door again.”
She hesitated a moment and then dropped her arms in apparent defeat, revealing an infant-sized, white T-shirt stretched over her large braless bosom. “You said you would help. If I had any place else to go, I wouldn’t bother—”
“It’s okay.” He stepped aside so she could enter. “You can use my sofa bed until we find you somewhere else to live.” He glanced away, attempting to ignore her jiggling breasts. Evidently she’d left her place in a hurry and caught a chill on the way here. He yanked a zippered hoodie from a hanger in the foyer’s closet and handed it to her. “I’ll take you to get your clothes and things tomorrow.”
And, please, let there be bras among them.
Terror sparked in her green eyes as she tugged on the sweatshirt. “But if I go back, Greg will try to make me stay.”
Nick’s hands automatically balled into tight fists. He’d annihilate the bastard if he dared. “Don’t worry. We’ll get a restraining order and ask for a police escort.”
Her shoulders sagged as she sank onto the sofa, blowing out a ragged breath.
“Listen, Chewie still needs to go out. I was waiting for my wife to call back. I doubt she will at this hour, but if she does, tell her I’ll catch her tomorrow night.”
Bethany’s gaze narrowed. “I thought you were divorced.”
“A technicality Sam also likes to point out.” She’d never understood family was número uno for a Latino man—followed closely by his pride and ability to provide for those he loved. Being born and raised in the U.S. hadn’t changed that.
“So I’m guessing you didn’t want to split up.”
He shook his head as he strode into the kitchen area, pulled a bag of frozen peas from the freezer, and wrapped it in a paper towel. “I knew we had problems, but Sam knocked me for a loop when she filed for divorce.” If she would’ve agreed to him having the damn vasectomy, he was sure they could’ve eventually worked things out. The fact he was willing to do something so permanent and totally against his faith should’ve proven how determined he was to protect her. “My job transfer was apparently the last straw for her.”
A wrinkle bisected Bethany’s forehead. “I’m sorry. I know you must’ve told me once, but I forget exactly what you do.”
“I’m vice president of new business at K.C. Swann’s.” The upscale department store chain he worked for was expanding to the West Coast, starting in Beverly Hills.
He returned to the sofa and handed her the makeshift cold pack. “Here, this should make it feel better.”
“Thanks.” Bethany applied the wrapped peas to her jaw. “I�
��ve seen signs and fliers announcing the grand opening on Saturday.”
“It’s good to know our publicity’s getting noticed.”
Moving so far from his wife and child violated every principle his late papi had instilled in him about being a good father and an honorable man. “I would’ve turned down the promotion and stayed in Pennsylvania to try to work things out, except Sam insisted she wanted a divorce anyway.”
According to her, his accepting the transfer was just one symptom of a much larger problem. However, if he’d turned down the promotion, he never could’ve supported two households. So he’d had no choice but to man-up or, as his papi would’ve said, grow a set of cojones and do what was necessary to take care of his family. “With any luck, my next assignment will be closer to Dani.”
“You must miss her like crazy. We had a blast when I took her to the beach last spring.”
“I haven’t seen her since then.” His daughter had canceled her August visitation at the last minute and had been avoiding his calls. It seemed Dani blamed him for leaving and had no idea that, if he had his way, they’d all be living together in California.
Chewie nudged his hand and whimpered, reminding Nick of their nightly run. “Anyway, make yourself at home, and I’ll be back in a half hour or so.”
“I’ll walk him for you. It’s the least I can do.”
He didn’t live in the best neighborhood for a woman to be on the street alone at night—even with an attack dog. And Chewie definitely didn’t qualify.
“That’s okay. We both need the exercise.” If he didn’t work off the testosterone surge thinking about Sam always produced, he’d be awake half the night. “If Samantha should call, please don’t mention I’m out with the dog. She doesn’t know I adopted him.”
Even though he might enjoy rubbing it in that he now had the pet she would never agree to, he refused to give her the satisfaction of knowing how lonely he was. At any rate, with Sam’s propensity for reading a hidden agenda into everything, she would undoubtedly interpret the announcement as him throwing his newfound freedom in her face, which would do nothing to promote the reconciliation he wanted more than his next breath.
Leaving the apartment, Nick glanced back at Bethany huddled on the couch. Her defeated posture reminded him of Sam’s dejection in the weeks following her parents’ death when she’d sat alone on her aunt’s porch every evening.
He’d felt sorry for her until he discovered she was a rough-and-tumble tomboy, who was as comfortable in her frilly dresses as a linebacker in a tutu. Yet, by the time she entered high school, she’d transformed into a feisty, totally feminine beauty. And El Capitán—as she nicknamed his penis on their wedding night after she insisted his stiff erection reminded her of a brave wooden soldier—had snapped to attention in her presence ever since she was fourteen.
On their day in court, Samantha looked stunning and sexier than ever in a clingy dress that had left him, the judge, and both lawyers squirming in their seats. Suppressed anger, jealousy, and bitterness simmered inside Nick after months of getting the cold shoulder from her. Consequently, when the judge banged his gavel and announced their divorce final, Nick’s rage spewed from him like hot lava.
“Thank you very much,” he snarled at Sam. “At least now I have a choice about who I sleep with. I’m free to hook up with every babe I meet.”
“As if you haven’t already,” she snapped, indicating she must have bought into the illusion he’d created—by working extra late—that he’d been getting his needs met elsewhere since she’d rejected him. “Go ahead. Enjoy yourself in California!”
Upon landing at LAX airport, he intended to do exactly as she’d suggested. But now, a full year later, his boiling fury had cooled, and his resentment was no longer directed exclusively at Sam. He was even madder at himself for his inability to do whatever it took to save his marriage and, more specifically, to move on.
It had taken only one embarrassing date with a Lakers cheerleader for him to admit the woman he’d lost was the only one he wanted in his bed.
~*~
“Wait, Mom! It’s me!”
“Dani?” Sam released the breath she’d been holding and groped for the light switch. Shielding her eyes against the sudden glare, she gasped at the sight of her daughter drenched to the skin. Her short dark hair was plastered to her head, and her plum-colored tank top stuck to her body like a spray-tan. Not that the shirt had been all that loose dry. Dani’s physical development had occurred later than average, so her post-pubescent growth spurt during the last six months had left most of her summer clothing too small.
What had she been doing outside in the rain? Narrowing her gaze, Sam flung open the child’s door and glared at the hairy, purple cocoon that had warmed her to the core earlier. Acid churned in her stomach, turning her belly into a bubbling cauldron.
“Where have you been, young lady!” She tossed the bat on the mattress and snatched the wad of hair from the tangled sheets. “And what do you call this?”
“A wig?”
“Don’t get wise with me.”
“Well, y-you asked,” Dani muttered past her chattering teeth.
“Just answer my first question.” Sam yanked the child’s bathrobe out of the closet and shoved it at her. “Where were you?”
“Haley and I went bowling with Allison.” Dani peeled off her wet shirt and jeans before pulling on the dry robe.
Bowling? It was nearly a half-hour drive to the closest lanes and movie theaters. “You know you’re not supposed to go out on a school night—especially not somewhere that far. You had me so terrified, creeping in at this hour, I nearly bashed you over the head.”
“What’s the big deal? You never cared if I went out when I was being homeschooled.”
“The big deal,” Sam said, drawing little quotes in the air, “is you have to get up at six to catch a school bus now. How do you think being out in the rain and getting only a few hours sleep will affect your health? Do you want to be sick again?”
Dani merely shrugged, nibbling one of her mauve fingernails.
“And I don’t appreciate you sneaking out while I’m on a date.”
“I didn’t sneak out.”
“Really? Then what was the point of doing that?” Sam jerked back the bedcovers, revealing a herd of stuffed animals rolled up in the sheets.
“I didn’t want you to worry if you came home early.”
“Oh? Was your hand so incapacitated you couldn’t call or text me? If so, how did you expect to bowl? Be honest, Dani. You set up this scene so I wouldn’t know you were gone.”
“I’m sorry, okay? I was supposed to be home way before you. But Allison’s mom got a flat, and it took forever for the auto club to get there.”
Sam was thrilled to have Dani back in school and making new friends, but ever since the term began, the child had been surly and defiant.
“I don’t care about your excuse. You weren’t supposed to go out in the first place, and you knew it. Consider yourself grounded for the next week.”
“Whatever.” Dani huffed and shoved past her to flop onto the bed.
A whiff of tobacco assailed Sam’s nostrils. She leaned down and sniffed her daughter’s breath. “Please tell me you weren’t stupid enough to start smoking.”
“Okay.” Dani thrust her chin out at a belligerent angle. “I don’t smoke. The smell must be from my friends’ cigarettes.”
Sam’s palm itched to slap the so-there smile off her daughter’s face. Teenagers were, without a doubt, the most effective form of birth control. If they’d had a fourteen-year-old two years ago, she never would’ve objected to Nick using condoms.
“That’s it!” She slashed her hand through the air. “If I smell tobacco on you again, you’ll be grounded for a month. So I don’t suggest you even hang around anyone who smokes. And you can bet your father’s going to hear about this.” Not that she was looking forward to telling Nick how badly she’d lost control of their daughter, but she
needed him to back her up.
“Fine! Go ahead and tattle to the bastard.”
“Watch your mouth. He’s still your father, and you’ll respect him.”
“Why should I after he left me?”
“Oh, cut the theatrics, Dani. He didn’t leave you. Your daddy loves you and calls you every single day.”
Dani stared through Sam as if she were listening to the empty squawking of an adult voice from a Charlie Brown cartoon.
“And speaking of your dad, he’s plenty annoyed with you right now for not answering his calls. You’ll be lucky if you still have a cell phone next—”
A loud pounding in the foyer downstairs cut her off. “Samantha,” a deep voice called from outside the front door. “It’s Jack Wallace. Is everything all right?”
Every muscle in her back contracted. Oh, jeez, no. In her fury, she’d forgotten all about the 911 call. At least they’d dispatched Jack, an officer she knew from Nick’s membership in the local volunteer fire department.
“You haven’t heard the end of this,” she called over her shoulder to Dani, as she stopped in her bedroom to grab her robe before dashing down the stairs. “Get ready for bed while I keep Sergeant Wallace from busting down our door!”
If there was ever a time she needed her stash of peanut butter cups, this was it. Maybe if she shared with Jack, he’d forgive her cry-wolf call.
Then again, a stint in jail would buy her some time before she had to admit to Nick she was a miserable failure as a single mom.
CHAPTER 2
Talk about cutting it close.
Dani sprinted to the corner seconds before the school bus pulled away. “Wait!” She ran alongside the huge vehicle, her two-ton backpack bouncing on her shoulders as she pounded on the bus’s side. The driver took pity on her, stopped, and reopened the door.
The Great Bedroom War Page 2